


Get the Devil Outta Me

by Hasty85



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: 99 problems and Beth is all of them, Beth is not a good person, Crime, F/M, bad relationships, blood all over the walls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 01:45:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14509782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hasty85/pseuds/Hasty85
Summary: The confrontation between Beth and Rio at the end of Season One takes a surprising turn. It's probably not a good idea to give her a gun, when she's got nothing left to lose.





	Get the Devil Outta Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by a band called Delain, their song "Get the Devil Outta me" and the last scene of Good Girls. If you want something happy, look elsewhere.

I'm the one mistake, you love to make

Rio smirks and yanks back Dean's head so the man can watch. Because his sweet little wifey is about to become a murderer. Beth's breathing has steadied out now, and she swipes a hand across her eyes, but the gun doesn't waver.

“Sorry, I did love you, but I'm done,” she murmurs, and fires.

In the house the bang sounds like the end of the world. Pain jumps along Rio's wrist, and he's deaf and blind for a moment as the world goes red. But that's wrong, right? How the fucking hell did she miss? When his vision clears, he notices Beth reloading, and there's another gun on the table that's his gun's twin.

“Same make and model as yours,” she says brightly. “That nice Agent Turner fast-tracked me for a permit when I told him I was worried that my one-night stand might come slinking back around. I'd like your cell phone please, and Dean's.”

He slides both of those across the table, unlocking his. Dean's isn't going to be much use to her- he stomped on it before she showed up. He's a little spooked- that brightness, that brittleness tells him he's made some miscalculation. 

“You missed,” he rasps.   
“No. Now, what the fuck did you do to my kids?”

“Nothing,” he rasps. There's something a little terrible about that 'no.'   
She puts the phone on speaker. “Who do I talk to? Whatever you have planned, call it off.”  
He rattles off the number. Mr. Crisco answers. He got Rio out. Crisco's a slippery one- their second-story boy. All the other stories too.

“Send the boys home,” Rio says.   
“Boss, you ok?”  
“I'm fine,” he lies, “Send the boys home.”  
Hurting the kids, or the other women, was never really the plan anyway. They weren't the problem. He hangs up. 

“Stand up and roll up the cuffs on your pants and shirt. Then sit down, hands and feet to the corners, fingers spread. I want your hands touching the chair slats.”

He does as she says. She unties Dean, letting him slump forward. She ties the rope one-handed. Rio lets her, he just got out of jail, he can escape a suburban tract house, no problem.That is, until a sudden pain blooms in his right hand. 

“What the fuck?”

“Broken pinky finger,” she says detachedly. “I've always heard it hurts like hell. Maybe I should break your middle finger too.”

He hears a rip, and the bindings are suddenly a lot heavier and tighter. Duct tape. Bitch used duct tape on him. She leaves, he hears her heels clacking on the kitchen floor. Ok..well, this is bad. He noticed some sharp cutlery in there. 

In her normal state of mind, she probably wouldn't stab him. Normal Beth has left the building, if not the country. There's a worrying thought that this might be in fact, normal Beth Boland, because what the fuck does he know about her anyway? 

And he's got a broken finger, if not two, and he's really not sure about that wrist. He pulls against the tape, wincing at the pain as skin sloughs off. Plus the cops were not gentle when they took him down- he's still dealing with the bumps he got from that.

“Stop that,” Beth snaps. She's got a couple of knives now. She puts the guns down out of his reach and kneels down on the floor to tape his ankles. “Kick me, and you'll lose the tendon. Trust me, that will not be fun.”

He can feel the knife against his leg. It's good and sharp too, so he has no doubt she'll do what she said. He stays still while she works. 

When she's done, she runs the knife over her hand and leaves a bloody handprint on the walls. She cuts a shallow line around one knee and then an ankle. Despite the situation and the pain he's in right now, a bit of desire flashes a sudden fin. She looks good in red.

Beth is the only person he's ever seen who can float this high on her own adrenaline. He seriously wishes that shit could be bottled. He'd make a mint.

She absently slashes some hanks of hair off just to add to the surrealness of the place.She clacks off back to the kitchen and whistles for the dog. Of all the things he's heard, the loud whine, the shot, and that terrible last skitter is gonna haunt him. 

Upstairs now. He tugs against his bonds and revises his opinion. He doesn't know where she learned to tie knots, but between the duct tape and the rope he isn't going anywhere. He hisses as he loses another layer of skin to the tape.

He could tip over the chair and hope to squirm his way out, but if he falls wrong, he'll end up in a pool of blood, and he might risk gaining more injuries. Also, the chair is pretty solid. He just had to chose the room with the real wood furnishings.

The clacking ends. He's a little bit astounded. Her husband is dead, he's held captive downstairs and bitch is upstairs, changing her clothes? Granted, a mini and heels would be heck to run in, and those heels are probably filled with blood.. Then a terrible dull thudding starts. He tracks her by the sound of breaking glass. 

She comes back downstairs again, dressed in jeans, t-shirt and tennies, with two small bags. There's a sun-hat shading her face, which..ok, he's tripped balls straight into the twilight zone. A baseball bat dangles from one hand.

She even changed the necklace- he hasn't seen the sapphire one since she bought it. She circles the place with the baseball bat, hitting things at random and leaving even more blood on the walls. The cuts are shallow enough that she won't even feel the loss, but boy do they bleed impressively.

He almost wishes he could watch the cops try and figure this out. Place looks like a small and bloody war landed on top of it. His boys are gonna go nuts too; this shit is beyond bad for business.

He strains again, and the chair moves an inch. 

“You really like to push it, don't you,” Beth observes. She pushes a bottle of water to him and frees one hand so he can drink it. He's almost grateful.

“Did you mean to shoot me or him?”

“Him. But I will shoot you if you keep annoying me. Be quiet now.”

She presses the phone. Doesn't take her eyes off him, or the gun. He did teach her pretty well, he guesses, but this is not the way he thought things would go.  
“Ruby, thank you for being a good friend. Remind Stan to look in the back of the minivan. And I'm so glad Sarah has her kidney. Goodbye.” 

She hangs up and then dials again.  
“Beth?” Annie's voice comes out of the speaker. “I thought you were out with..”  
“Are you safe?”  
“Yeah, I'm at Francie's place, with the kids. Where are you, what is happening?”

“Annie, please remember that I love you. You know that desk that Dean made? All the important papers are there. The house is in your name now, you can move back as soon as the police are done. Tell the kids I love them, ok? Call Ruby, too, tell her I said goodbye.”

“Beth.. what the hell? Where are you? Where is Dean?”  
“Oh, Dean?” she gives a terrible hollow chuckle. “We won't be having any anniversaries anymore. Wait a half an hour and then call the cops. Love you, Annabel.”  
“Beth, what..”

She backs up and shoots the phone. Then she starts cutting Rio's bonds. Legs first, than his right hand. She keeps the gun on him the whole time.

“She ain't gonna wait a half hour,” Rio mutters, rubbing circulation back into his hands. 

He wasn't sure how long he was taped, but long enough for fucking everything to go to sleep, and for the room to spin when he attempts to stand up. Great.   
Sleeping pill in the water, classic, and he fell for it. He remembers some off hand remark Annie made, and wishes he'd paid attention.Some crack about Beth not actually being a nice person.

“Yes, thank you, because I don't know my own little sister well enough to know that. That's why I packed before I called her. Come on, no time to lose.”  
“I'm not going anywhere.”  
“Ok. Take your chances with Agent Turner. See if I care,” she shrugs. He can't get a read on her at all. She's gone totally deadpan.  
“My boys..”  
“Half of them are in jail. The other half will bail, because every news show from here to California is going to go batshit crazy over this. As far as they're concerned, you're radioactive. You think you're so smart, but you forgot two things.”

She has a point. Loyalty will only last so long. She hauls him into the minivan. 

“What was the other thing,” he asks. “Aside from not turning 'nice houses' into crime scenes.”

“Queens. You forgot that queens can be as ruthless as kings. Sometimes worse.”

He chuckles ruefully, and blacks out. 

00  
Annie guns the motor. It takes her ten minutes to make the drive, and she's probably breaking every traffic law in existence. She doesn't even bother locking the doors, just bolts out and unlocks the front door. Phone out, and calling, but Beth doesn't pick up.

“Beth!” she screams. There's nothing but a terrible silence. She waits by the open door for the cops to come. Beth's dead or...she doesn't want to think of any other possibilities, but she's not going in there alone.


End file.
